


Trouble that we've come to know

by meres_argias



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Beach Divorce (X-Men), Established Relationship, M/M, Unhappy Ending, breaking up, only in slow motion, political differences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 19:44:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meres_argias/pseuds/meres_argias
Summary: An AU where the beach divorce didn't happen on the beach because the humans did not attack. Instead, it happened in the aftermath, perhaps more painfully so.





	Trouble that we've come to know

It is all over the moment Shaw's dead body hits the sand. The red devil vanishes, taking Angel and the mutant who controls the wind away with him. In a stroke of good fortune that Charles is not sure that they deserve after how lucky they've been, the phone from the damaged aircraft still works. Moira gets through to the CIA before any naval officers have the chance to become uneasy about the presence of unidentified persons on the beach and very soon smaller vessels are dispatched from the US army ships to carry them to safety. A helicopter flight back to Florida is arranged quickly.

Charles lets himself be buckled into his seat and drinks the offered water; it does little to soothe his scrambled brain and he can barely keep it down. The rest of his team is exhausted, huddled together as if they had not been just baptized by fire, as if they were still kids recovering from a grueling training day or a night in town. Raven is blue, Hank is blue, the baffled pilot is obviously in dire need of a mind wipe, however, Charles cannot bring himself to care. The thought of entering the mind of another is terrifying and it will remain that way, as long as he can still feel Shaw dragging him down to oblivion from the inside of his skull.

The outside is not looking any better. Bile rises in his throat as he looks at Erik, who is sitting on the floor by the luggage, searching for Charles' eyes across the aircraft. His awful helmet rests at his feet, discarded, now that he used it to get what he wanted. Charles vows to get angry when they reach home in Westchester, New York, which will take a while. For the moment he just feels numb.

* * *

 

Erik comes to him in the library before he has managed to sort out his thoughts. That doesn't mean he will dawdle before getting to the point.

“I kept Shaw still for you so that you could kill him”, he says in a low, steady voice, his back turned and some kind of alcoholic drink cradled in his hands – he is not picky, not right now.

And before Erik can say anything, he turns around, looks at him, and his voice cracks: “I felt him die, up until the end; do you have any idea what this does to a person?”

Erik flinches at that, because, the poor idiot, he hadn't known. He had come to Charles to congratulate, to celebrate, the nerve of him. “I did not... I did not think... I am sorry for that, my friend, but that man could not be contained”, he says, not getting it. “It took both of our powers to defeat him. What else could we have done? Reasoned with him?”

Charles does not say anything to that, so Erik keeps going, tries to make it right, to make it something else than what it was.

“I killed Shaw for all of us, and especially for you.”

The nerve of him. “No you didn't! You killed him for you.”

“I killed him”, Erik says, “so that we would all win, but at the same time, _you_ would be able to remain the pacifist, without blood on your hands. The blood had to go on somebody's hands, it might as well have been mine.”

“Yours and mine both, as it happened. You are not listening to me: I am saying you left me no choice but to be an accomplice to murder, and for this, I will never forgive you.”

To his credit, Erik looks genuinely taken aback when hearing this. Too late for that, however: Charles squashes the little voice in his head telling him to choose words less cutting and continues speaking with the intent to _hurt_ as certain things about Erik fall together in his mind.

“I believe I understand now what you've wanted from me, all this time. You've wanted a warm body to direct your aggression onto whenever it suited you. Another mind to bounce ideas off on, but whose input you never actually intended to consider if it disagreed with your revenge plans. And most of all, you wanted me to feel your compassion, your humanity for you, take upon me everything of yours that you consider a weakness and process it for you, so that you wouldn't have to.”

Erik stares with incredulity at first, but then anger takes over his features like a mask. Looks like _one_ of them has a shorter fuse, Charles thinks, but doesn't say.

“Don't you dare, Charles”, Erik says slowly, moving closer. “Don't you dare twist what we've had and make it sound like I have been tricking you somehow. I did consider what you said, but I disagreed. So, I made a choice. We'd all be dead if I hadn't. Shaw was charging himself to blow us all up, including the humans you care so much about, in a nuclear blast. I ask you again, what else would you have done?”

Charles remains silent, shaking a little. He doesn't have an answer, and that only makes him angrier.

“In case you haven't noticed, we succeeded. We won. We all won. Yes, I avenged my mother, but this is bigger than-”

“It is about the lack of trust, Erik!” Charles finally gets the words out for what had been filling him with resentment. “That you'd just shut me out, force me to experience all that. Maybe.. maybe there was no other way. But you.. you didn't .. you didn't _talk_ to me, you blocked me on purpose in order to act alone. You put that helmet on and _used_ me as a means to an end.”

“I put the helmet on because... well, you are right about that – I did not trust you not to interfere. I didn't believe I could convince you. I still don't. Your theoretical pacifism is more important to you than what is realistic and practical. You also do not care what I feel. What everybody else feels, when it doesn't follow your narrative. Look at yourself. You get so upset when we don't play along with it!”

“What on earth are you talking about? What narrative?” Charles asks, shocked that Erik would say something like this.

“In your perfect world, I see the light of forgiveness with angels coming down singing from the sky, all the while my family's murderers still walk the Earth. Raven is just secretive enough about her appearance to pass for normal and not raise any eyebrows and Hank is just at ease enough with his own to show up in the lab every day and make useful tools for you. Humans are just accepting enough of us “model” mutant citizens so as to grudgingly tolerate our existence and _you_ can bring girls to your conference dinners while you sneak into my bedroom at night when nobody's watching. I am sorry Charles, but the truth matters. We cannot pretend we are all proper and harmless because we are not.”

Charles looks at him with wide eyes – Erik has just torn his ideals to shreds. He puts his glass down so that he can drag both his hands heavily through his hair and makes a few shaky steps around the room. It is not enough to relieve the tension he is feeling, but when he speaks, it comes out more resigned than angry: “That's not fair, Erik. If you really believe what you're saying, I don't think we can carry on doing _anything._ if you don't trust me and my vision for the world is for you so.. stifling, then how can we have a common path in the future?”

“I suppose we cannot”, comes the tight-lipped reply.

The conversation has veered into the worst possible direction it could have gone, Charles realizes. “So, what happened is the following: I ask you to apologize for hurting me in your quest to murder Shaw, and I end up getting blamed for my ideas and then dumped? In what “narrative” of yours is that even remotely okay?”

Erik opens his mouth to speak, perhaps to say that technically he did apologize, but Charles raises his hand to interrupt. “You know what, I don't need you to answer that. What I need, is some rest. It has been a wild 48 hours. Let's... let's talk tomorrow when we've had some time to think about things. If you are still here, that is.”

Erik nods, uncertain, but Charles has already turned to leave. He walks through the door quickly and doesn't look back.


End file.
